Scrambled Piano

You play the piano. You are good. One day, you sit at the upright in your basement, only to discover, suddenly, some of the black keys are bunched down on the bass side and the middle of the keyboard is totally clear of any black keys what so ever. "OK," you tell yourself. "I'll learn to play this way." And because you love the piano, you do learn to play with the keys this way. You make it through a song, yes with blunders unbefitting someone with your skill and dedication, but it is new and interesting and it IS the piano. You go for a glass of water, remind yourself not to crack your knuckles, come back to your instrument and consider, "Maybe if I play 'Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom Time' I'll be back up to snuff. Sitting now, you look down at the keys, raise your hands and ... the keys are changed AGAIN. You don't like it. There is a reason for the disbursement of the black keys among the white in each octave. It reminds you of chess, with the right-angle capped rooks, describing the way they move with their compass points notches, the virtually kinetic knights, ever poised, next to the diagonally slotted bishops, also describing their motion with their design. At the keys, you used to think it was CDEFGABC, sharps and flats placed in measure and you'd come to think of your life in that harmony.

It's an analogy.   

That's my man , you making me crack up